Living to Die
by Ziven
Summary: Harry's mad at the world, for all of his suffering. He finally tells the world how he really feels one-shot, rated the way it is for language. slightly humorous


**Living to Die**

_I wonder if they'll laugh when I am dead… _

My first year at Hogwarts, everyone—especially Draco Malfoy—were watching and challenging me all the time. Lets be serious: you know I've lost my parents, and that I live with those asshole Dursleys. Why rub it in? What the hell is wrong with you people? Oh, wow, I survive a bloody curse, so what? That doesn't make me special, and if it does, why doesn't anyone treat me like it? You say I'm so special and powerful, but when I tell you that Voldemort is trying to come back to power, do you treat me like I should know since I've just escaped his bloody ass again? No. Suddenly I'm a fake, a glory hog. But whom do you run to when you're in trouble?

Sometimes I wonder if this is someone's idea of a sick joke, my life. Maybe I should just die so you can finally have your laugh…

_Why am I fighting to live when I'm just living to fight…?_

What the hell?! Before school even starts, I'm almost starved to death by the Dursleys. And for what? Some deformed, Golum-looking elf who wants his rights? First of all, he hates serving Lucius Malfoy. Secondly, he's more powerful than his master. Obvious conclusion? Start running, and if he comes after you, blow his head off and keep running. That what Voldemort was doing, even when he was just a fucking mass of vapor. Besides, you'd be doing the world and yourself a favor.

And in addition to this shit, here comes Guildroy Lockhart, the local conceited drunk—who happens to be a filthy stinking rich bastard from stealing people's memories. I was also accused of petrifying a ghost and three people, including one of my only friends. What happened to all the hype about Harry Potter being a fake? You can all kiss my lightening bolt scarred ass.

I'm fighting a losing battle: I want to be accepted by a world that will never accept me. I'm fighting for the 'good' side. It doesn't matter. Both the 'good' and 'bad' sides, they're just both using me anyway. What's the fucking point?

_Why am I trying to see when there ain't nothing in sight…?_

Third year, the same thing, around and around we go. On the train to school—after running away form the Dursleys, see, I blew up my aunt, which was kinda fun—I meet this guy who looks like a potential bum, but is actually a werewolf who was friends with my parents—and Malfoy says _I _have bad taste in friends—and who happens to be the new DADA teacher, considering I killed one and Ron and I sent the other one to St. Mungo's (guess which one's which).

He was the best teacher I've ever had, honestly speaking. I never thought I'd ever say this, but he made learning _fun_.

Then, I get this huge bomb dropped on me—the guy they thought killed my parents was my godfather (did anyone even bother telling me I had one? NO!)—and the guy was innocent, of all things. Do you _think_ I want to see innocence? No, Dammit! I want to see guilt, punishment, the bloody man who killed my bloody parents! Having a convict for a godfather is fun, especially someone with a stupid name like Sirius (just kidding, I'm not serious. Wait, that's right, I'm not Sirius).

And, then again, I did get to see him, the murderer! Peter Pettigrew. Once and again, one of my father's friends—oh, bloody great dad. One of your friends killed you, another one was framed and put into Azkaban, and one couldn't do a thing about either incident—honestly, it's enough for a soap opera, once you add really bad actors and make everything painfully obvious.

And then there's Dumbledore. I only have one thing to say to him: What the hell? What the bloody hell? What will it take for that bloody man to worry about something? Voldemort could kill ten thousand people and he'd say some shit like, "Calm down please, there's nothing to worry about…" Like hell there is. What is he on to be so fucking happy all of the time? What is he, puffing the magic Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon?

Let sum up this year's situation: all of my family are screwed. The Dursleys are shit, Lupin has a chance to kill me once a month, Sirius is on the run, Dumbledore's off his rocker and sending me back to the Dursleys every year—what is he, fucking crazy?—and Peter works for Voldemort, who is still after me after getting his ass kicked twice. Well, excuse me if I don't see any good in my situation. If you see some, call me—oh yeah, you CAN'T because the Dursleys are bloody assholes! BLOODY ASSHOLES! B-L-O-O-D-Y A-S-S-H-O-L-E-S!

_Why am I trying to give when no one gives me a try…?_

You're kidding, right? The one year I can spend with Ron with the Dursleys permission, the bloody damn Dark Mark appears. Why me? Why in the bloody hell why? Why does everything have to be about me? I get framed and forced into some bitch ass tournament—almost eaten by a Dragon, a huge spider, and a Sphinx, captured by mer-people (damn animals were gonna let me friends die), and stuck into a maze like some damn experimental hamster—and all to resurrect Voldemort with my own blood. Isn't that the icing on the bloody damn cake! And then, the girl of my dreams walks off with my tournament rival (who turns out _not _to be Malfoy, what a surprise); well, that didn't bother me much, he was a good person. Too bad he died. And lets add a few cherries to the icing, shall we? Five words: Scandalous headlines and Rita fucking Skeeter (whoops, that's six words). Lets add one more, okay? No one believes me when I say Voldemort is coming back! What is it with you people? Must you be so wishy-washy? Damn, I can't wait until I'm old enough to go get a drink. Or will you find a way to ruin that for me too? Bastards. Go fuck off.

_Why am I dying to live if I am living to die?_

I don't know why I keep going for you people. I keep going, and only lose more along the way. It's not like I've got more than five people helping me. There's no point to my existence. Why don't I just die so Voldemort can have the fucking world? He can have it; this world has only caused me pain and suffering. Apparently, you people can't remember what those last 11 years were like with Voldemort. Maybe you'll know how I feel then, if I make you remember. You'll finally know the pain of watching everyone around you disappear, never to return in this life time. Damn, I should go to heaven. I've helped delay his return for how many years? Four. I'm sure four consecutive years of servitude to you fucking lazy naïve bastards is enough. It had better be.

Are you happy now, Voldemort? You wanted the world. You've won. You can have it. Take it, destroy it, do whatever the hell you want. In fact, if you kill anyone, let me be the first. I dare you, no, I _want _you to. You've been wanting to do it for years. Here's you chance. Today is your fucking lucky day. You took everything from me, and for what? To rule people that will never accept you? Why anyone would want this is beyond me. Come and find me, come and kill me. It might be nice to go out in green light instead of the usual white. Maybe this world deserves you, Voldemort. Maybe it's been inevitable all these years. They need to suffer. I shouldn't have tried to stop you.

So get it over with. I want to die I want this crummy damn world to dissolve in darkness. Maybe, hopefully this is some sick, twisted joke. So kill me, and you and the world can have your laugh.

* * *

Yay! two stories up in two days! that's a record for me. 

I figured I owed you guys something for not being able to update on VR for such a long time. So, yeah, starts getting teary-eyed thanks for hanging in there with me. REad and Review.

P.S. I hope that this story doesn't offend anyone. I'm not trying to hurt you all on purpose (well, not you, but a few others who shall go nameless)

Oh! I'm temporarily insane, so I'm using my writer powers to become snake like for...until I get sick of it. Sssssso....ssssssee you all later...


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